The Eighth Day
by darkmagic-luvr
Summary: There was something about spending a week stuck in an enclosed space with someone he didn't know that just kind of bugged him. Firefly/Supernatural/BSG crossover-fusion. Sam/River.
1. Prologue  Day One

**Author's Note:** This is a Firefly/Supernatural/BSG fusion fic. What that means (for those that don't know) is that the characters from Firefly and Supernatural are placed in the BSG 'verse. I will be posting one chapter a day. The complete masterlist of this fic is located at my livejournal **darkmagic-luvr. livejournal .com/ **here.

**This is set before the BSG miniseries.**

This is a Sam/River centered fic, with appearences by Crowley, Dean, Simon, Starbuck and a few Cylons.  
>There is some sexual content, but not graphic enough to be rated M. There is no swearing, unless you count the made up BSG!verse word <em>frak<em>.

I disclaim.

_Summary:_

There was something about spending five days stuck in an enclosed space with someone he didn't know that just kind of bugged Sam. Maybe it was because the girl he was stuck with (but she wasn't a girl, was she? That was just part of the problem…) was a little too weird, even for him (who was just trying to be normal, bitch was ruining that for him too); or maybe it was because that the five day mission they were on was turning into a six day mission…and then a seven day mission; _they were burning from the inside out, left in the darkness of space, forever lost._

Whatever the reason, it was all Starbuck's fault. Bitch.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seven<strong>

It was numbingly hot.

Sitting with their backs against the remnants of their bunks, clothes disregarded and forgotten, sopping with sweat at their feet; they'd given up on movement. She'd nearly fainted when she'd tried last and that had been an hour ago. He'd been seeing snow.

Inwardly, he revoked his forgiveness toward Starbuck. She may have left them booze, but she was the frakking reason they were up here in the first place. It was her fault they were dead.

River shifted her head against his shoulder, dropping her forehead against the side of his neck and his skin cooled for the briefest moment. But then her hair was sticking uncomfortably against him and he had to _move_to peel the strands off, bunching her hair at the top of her head with his fist, and for a moment contemplated pulling out his KA-BAR and cutting it off. It wasn't like it mattered; it wasn't like they were coming out of this.

Her pessimism was rubbing off on him.

"It's not _pessimism_," she snarled at him without heat, prodding him between the ribs with more force than he would have given her credit for in their current states. "It's _realism_, frakhole."

If he didn't feel her lips moving against his neck he would have thought he was hallucinating. He snorted into the air (he'd forgotten that she could read his mind and whatnot), eyes sliding shut, his hand still resting against the top of her head, ideas of cutting it forgotten. "We should have taken the deal."

"No."_ Now_ there was heat in her snarl, jerking away from his chest angrily. His hand hovered in the air, strands of her hair wound around his fingers after being ripped out by her effort. River shut her eyes quickly as the sudden movement had her seeing white, the forgotten pounding in her head coming to the front at full force—_full speed ahead, captain!_

He sighed behind her. _Yes, we should have. You'd rather be dead?_

"We are dead." She paused, letting her words sink in. "You said it yourself, remember?"

"That's not fair."

"We're on a spaceship with no power drifting toward a sun. Nothing is fair."

Sam kicked at her thigh viciously with a booted foot, knocking her over and forward and pretended not to be more than a little turned on by her naked ass in the air. She laughed beneath her hair, turning to look at him through the dark mass sticking to her face. He couldn't tell if her eyes were red from tears or the heat or both.

If they'd taken the deal they'd be alive, never mind for how long, but they would be alive and it would be enough.

"We should have taken it."

"Your mother did," hissed River. "Look what happened to her."

He looked away. She sighed. Her hand came up to push her hair out of her face, turning her body to sit across from him. He didn't bother to keep his mind from wandering toward sex. He wondered what a child of theirs would even look like.

It wouldn't matter now.

"Sam-"

"Don't, Mouse," interrupted Sam softly. He sighed, dropping his head against the mattress covered wall and looking up. He could see the heat coming off the metal panels overhead; hear it creak as it expanded in the heat outside.

Sam closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. "The next time I see Starbuck, I'm punching her in the face."

**Day One**

"Gods damn Raptor pilots and their frakking _bonds_."A wide-eyed crewman stepped out of the way quickly and saluted as Starbuck rounded the corner swearing, sporting a light bruise on her cheek and her lips twisted in a snarl. Her knuckles were raw and ash from a cigar was rubbed into the front of her standard. She didn't bother looking behind her as she opened her mouth to bark at the taller man following her. "Rooster more than _asked_for a beat down. I already have a problem with you; you don't need to make it worse."

"You'd love me to make it worse," he snapped back. He had a circular burn on his hand from Starbuck's cigar and blood smeared across the side of his face. Not his blood, his _former_ partner's blood. Rooster really didn't know when to keep his mouth shut around Starbuck; she'd had it in for them since they'd stepped onto the _Galactica_, and he'd never stepped down from a challenge—just because they weren't Viper pilots didn't make them any less important. But he'd stopped wanting to run headfirst into danger the minute he past flight school.

And Rooster just _had_to make a comment about Kara's ass.

Of course she'd thrown down with him, and Rooster was his best friend, so of course the taller man had to come to his rescue and pulled him off. So while Rooster got thrown into the hold, _he'd_gotten the pleasure of being Starbuck's bitch, and was getting shoved into a Raptor with someone he didn't know on an assignment that was so frakking stupid he'd accuse her of abusing her authority if he didn't like having his balls where they were.

She'd probably just say _'Frak yeah,'_and that would be that.

Starbuck stopped suddenly when they were in the docking bay, spinning around to face him, muttering a swear under her breath. He frowned at her, looking around her to see what she was looking at and saw Helo talking to Tyroll, both of them looking uncomfortable and glancing at a smallish girl with dark hair, maybe a year older than he was, stroking a Raptor in a way that could only be called… lovingly.

"What in the hell—?"

"Sasquatch, meet your new partner," said Starbuck, and he realized that she had turned around, not because she hadn't wanted the girl to see her, but because she was laughing too hard to be appropriate. "Little Mouse."

Sasquatch opened his mouth to snarl that he didn't _need_ a new partner; he had a perfectly good one—albeit a shiny bruised and bloody one— but he still frakking _had_ one. When he realized Starbuck meant _her_his brain froze, mouth still hanging open. The weird girl who was now wiping her fingerprints off the glass window… that was his new Raptor partner?

"Little Mouse is the best _frakking_ pilot in the whole frakking fleet," said Starbuck tightly (very, _very_tightly, Sasquatch noticed with a smirk). "But she said something to Tigh that pissed him off. You know what happens next."

"He punched her?"

Starbuck cackled. "Tried. She dodged him and knocked him unconscious with a well-placed kick to the side of the head. Commander didn't know whether to punish her or give her a cookie. I guess this is what he decided."

"She doesn't look too upset."

"She has to spend five whole days in an enclosed space with _you_. She's smart, I'm sure she'll realize this is punishment."

"Go frak yourself, Lieutenant."

Starbuck stepped up to him, into his space, looking down her nose at him even as she craned her head to look him in the eye. And there was a tense moment where Sasquatch thought she might hit him. "Get in the damn bird, _Sammy_."

His eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, just followed her with his glare as she dropped the file in her hands onto the floor at his feet and moved around him, leaving him with…Little Mouse.

She looked over at him from where she was speaking with a very uncomfortable looking Tyroll and cocked her head to the side. "You're not going to say hello?"

"Hi," said Sam, tightly, bending down to pick up the folder. Little Mouse rolled her eyes.

"I meant to the ship."

He paused. _Gods of Cobalt hear my prayer…_this was going to be a long trip.

.

Sam watched "Little Mouse" out of the corner of his eye warily as the Chief did one last systems sweep (wouldn't do him any good if the gimble was really shot like Boomer kept complaining it was) before they went up. He was still pissed at Starbuck; even Helo had agreed she was being a bitch.

Also, his new partner was weird and mysterious. Helo didn't envy him for his new partner. Despite how hot she frakking was, mysterious was never good when that person held your life in their hands.

_"You're all clear."_Sam's train of thought was interrupted by a stream of static and Tyroll's voice in his helmet. He waved at the two of them from outside the craft, flashing them a quick thumbs up.

Sam closed his eyes briefly as Mouse started up the thrusters. He hated taking off and landing, like his body couldn't handle parting from solid ground or empty space. He hummed over the thrusters, an old tune from his childhood forever embedded in his psyche as if he'd been through years of torture – Metallica.

The humming continued as Little Mouse got them air borne and into space. He had to admit, she was a damn good pilot. This was probably cake compared to flying a Viper, though the Raptor didn't obey with the slightest touch as its sleeker counterpart. Still, he understood why Starbuck would be jealous of her, so what if she was a little weird? All Viper pilots had their quirks: Terra was a closet voyeur, Apollo had daddy issues, Creeper liked dating men, Starbuck was a drunken bitch—

"Are you going to keep up that Gods awful noise throughout the _entire_mission?"

It took Sam almost a minute to realize Little Mouse had spoken, even longer to realize that she wanted him to _shut up_. Her voice was almost childlike; if it wasn't so full of cynicism and brazen rightness he would have thought she was naïve. He stopped humming as fast as if she had slapped him then cleared his throat.

"Sorry."

She ignored his apology. "Your callsign's Sasquatch." It was rhetorical, but he nodded anyways. "And Starbuck told you mine." Again, not a question.

"Little Mouse," Sam glanced at her when he heard a soft noise coming from the direction she was sitting. She was turned slightly to the right, checking the thruster control, giving him a view of the smirk on her face, and he knew what she was thinking. It really wasn't that funny.

"I see the satire isn't lost upon you," she said, her eyes flickering back to him. Starbuck must have thought she was hilarious, sticking the _Sasquatch_ with the _Little Mouse._

He had to hold back the urge to snarl. The snort next to him said him he didn't hold back enough.

_Gods of Cobalt. Frak you Starbuck. _

"We're clear to jump," he said instead, focusing on his screens. He felt Mouse nod next to him.

"Fire it up."

.

They had a stupid mission; they'd established that—frak it barely _qualified_as a mission. And stupid missions meant less fuel distributed; less fuel meant fewer jumps they would be able to make. Ten at the most with what they had, even less if they ran into trouble, like pirates or something… Helo swore up and down that he and Boomer barely made it out alive after running into a ship of criminals once on a perimeter jump. ("Outlaws, Winchester." "Were they pirates or cowboys, Agathon? Make up your frakking mind.")

Sam continued to sit in silence, preferring that as opposed to making small talk with a girl he wasn't so sure he wanted to know. He wondered what Dean was doing right then, if he was at a bar on Caprica or trying to sneak onto a ship to fool around. He'd done to Sam it before: snuck onto the _Galactica_and flirted with Racetrack until she slept with him, and then followed him around all morning asking about eggs. He hadn't told people that Dean was his brother, just a…friend. A really annoying friend who treated him like a kid brother and never took him seriously.

He and Starbuck clashed, which really surprised him. He cackled inwardly at the memory of Starbuck punching Dean in the jaw and landing on her ass after he scissored her legs from the ground.

"Wow, your life is so fascinating. I wish I grew up rich and normal…. It wasn't all great. What I managed to accomplish was completely ignored by my parents because it's just who I was, it was probably worse than what you thought you had to live up to…. I bet you excelled at it…. I really did—"

Sam's pleasant memories were interrupted by Mouse, and she sounded like she'd been talking for a while; changing her voice to a deeper pitch, like she was having a conversation with herself. A conversation that _really_flattered her ego. Sam felt his lips pouting in confusion and he turned his head slowly to look at her, so as to not alert her to his sudden eavesdropping…which…they were the only ones in there, so it couldn't really be eavesdropping, could it?

"What the frak are you doing?"

"We're getting to know each other," said Mouse without missing a beat or even acknowledging that what she was doing was even the slightest bit weird and if Sam's face twisted in outrageous disbelief, it was all on its own.

"You and_ who?_"

"You."

He blinked. "Me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. You."

"How?"

"Well," she started to explain slowly, like talking to a child. "I ask you a question, and then I respond for you. It's not like you're good company."

"I am excellent company," said Sam, a little offended. Mouse turned around in her chair to face him fully, giving him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him. Sam raised his chin, not backing down. She huffed and he took that as a sign to begin the conversation.

"Where did you grow up?"

"That's what you start with? You don't offer your name or even ask mine, but _'where I grew up'?_" she snorted lightly. "That's what you started with in my conversation, too."

He ignored her. "I traveled all over the colonies when I was growing up."

"Because everywhere you went someone needed help and your father felt like it was his duty to help them like he couldn't help your mother."

"My dad was a—" Sam stopped, his mouth hanging open as he processed _exactly_ what she'd just said. Which was what he had been _thinking_, but _not _about to say. Dad felt it was more than his duty to help people, especially people who didn't know the kinds of things they got into, like demons. Before he'd even been born, his mother had made a deal with a demon and it killed her. So, instead of grieving like a normal person would do and ignore what could not only be impossible, but sort of sacrilegious, John Whichester left Caprica and set out to find the demon that had did his wife in.

He and Dean had been dragged all over the frakking verse looking for the demon with yellow eyes, taking people's hopes and dreams and creating them for a price. Ten years, one soul. That was how the crossroads demons worked, and that's how they had worked for only the Gods knew how long.

He'd entered the fleet trying to escape the ground, trying to escape heavens and hells and consequences. Space seemed to be neutral territory: not enough sin, not enough sorrow.

"I grew up on Caprica," said Little Mouse, smoothly interrupting his thoughts once again. "My father is a politician, my mother holds a government position with unknown standings. My older brother is a trauma surgeon in Caprica City. He's very important."

"Sounds like your whole family is important," muttered Sam, not really caring, she was rich and he was—

"We are."

Trying to be normal. "And you?"

"I'm…special, as my brother would say." She glanced at him in the reflection off the glass. "Nobody is ever really normal."

Sam shook his head, a dark chuckle threatening to build in his chest. "What are you, reading my mind?"

He wasn't looking at her, but he could imagine the cocky look she was giving his reflection. "Would it really be that easy?"

Gods he hoped it wasn't.

.

They decide to sleep in shifts (because he was still freaked out by her, and didn't completely trust her not to wake him if they get sucked into a black hole or some shit) and he went first, taking control of the Raptor; checking to make sure their course was plotted correctly, that there weren't any immediate threats in the vicinity before he settled in for a long, silent four hours by himself.

The first hour he spent in complete silence, staring warily at Mouse out of the corner of his eye as she stretched out on one of the two cots they had in the ship. She'd stripped down to her standards and tied her long hair back into a braid to keep it from knotting in her sleep. The black material stood out against her pale skin, and he had to remind himself (several times) that she'd been properly trained and could kick his ass if she caught him staring. He let out a long breath of relief he'd not known he'd been holding when she started snoring slightly and stretched out his limbs, stiff after forty five minutes of so little movement.

The second hour he made paper footballs out of his manual and tried to see how many he could make into Mouse's abandoned shoes— fourteen, and then he almost hit her in the face and decided to stop.

Sam considered the woman sleeping across the ship for a while. Wondering what her name was, why 'Little Mouse', how a girl from such a prominent family ended up in the fleet (and how no one recognized her and gave her shit for it. He knew her face, he just couldn't for the life of him recall her name)—but then he stopped thinking about it and focused on her, facing him as she slept. Pieces of her hair had fallen out of its braid as she slept, falling over her face and she was—

Sam swallowed and looked away from her. He really had to keep his mind focused. Even if this was a crap mission, it was still a mission and there was still the very real possibility that something could happen out here. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander on things like hitting Starbuck over the head with a crowbar or pretty girls and what they could do together up here in space, all alone.

He forced himself to concentrate on the screens in front of him, even though there was still nothing happening and he knew nothing would.

The third hour he started humming again, picking out lyrics from his favorite songs Dean had played on the road and singing them under his breath. He kept one eye on his consoles as he watched the clock, waiting as the minutes ticked away, and at four hours on the dot, he nearly had a heart attack as Mouse spoke up from behind him.

"I thought you were finished with the humming."

He bit his tongue to keep from jumping in his chair. He swallowed the bit of blood and excess saliva filling his mouth and turned toward her with a bored expression on his face. As if he wasn't just scared out of his frakking mind. He had been prepared to wake her up in a minute (he figured she was_ human _after all and no _human _actually _liked _getting up) and switch with her, but it turned out she had an internal clock that rang like a fog horn. She smirked at him as she stood up from the cot, pulling her suit over her legs and leered back at him when she caught him staring.

He had no frakking clue how Helo managed to stand Boomer as a partner. He just couldn't wait to get back to _Galactica _and his very male, very married Raptor partner, whom he would never ever consider stripping or bending over the console or-

He stopped thinking immediately when his imagination started to get the better of him; he'd already have a problem sleeping without wondering if Mouse was going to cut out his spleen while he slept—now he was going to have to make sure he didn't _dream _about her. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and moved around Mouse as she headed for her chair, missing the way her smirk widened wickedly.

Sam dropped into the abandoned cot, not bothering to lower his own, not when they weren't sleeping at the same time. It was flat and uncomfortable, but it was soft enough to sleep on. He didn't bother with his suit; it was tight enough to hide any…anything that might happen as he slept.

According to his watch it was four in the morning, and suddenly he was bone tired and a minute after he'd gotten comfortable he was asleep. Later he rationalized that the only reason he fell asleep so quickly was because he'd humanized (sort of) Mouse as he watched (creepily stared at) her sleep.

He dreamed that she was petting his hair as he played cards with Helo, betting two Dean's against his three Starbuck's. Boomer was in a gold bikini with hair like Princess Leia and started stripping Mouse as soon as she appeared, trying to convince Sam that adding a Bobby Singer to his ante would guarantee him a win. But he'd been saving Bobby for the end.

His dream ended just as one of Helo's Starbuck's bit one of his Dean's in the ass, and he blinked up at Little Mouse who was smiling at him brightly, holding a jug of water (it was tipped dangerously, like she'd been contemplating dumping it on him) in one hand, her other on his shoulder.

"I figured you were the kind of guy who would wake up at the slightest shift in his surroundings," she said brightly, like it was the same as a 'good morning' and straightened, setting the water jug on his chest and moving back to her station, dropping heavily into her chair and propping her feet up against the wall. Sam cracked his neck as he sat up, holding the container against his chest so it wouldn't spill. He looked around the ship, blinking at the drawings tapped to the walls. She'd been bored.

He squinted through hazy eyes at one of the drawings sitting on his console desk and blinked when he realized it was _him _she'd drawn (there was other stuff too, an man a few years older than them riding a dinosaur, a man in a suit with a unicorn head holding a laser gun, a spaceship _clearly _of her own design that almost looked like a horse, something he really didn't want to look too closely at that sort of resembled a part of his anatomy that he hoped hadn't made too much of an appearance in his unconscious state.). She must have done it while he'd been sleeping, and it was obvious how much time she'd spent on it. The rest of her artworks were doodles but _this_… Sam picked up the drawing carefully, wondering where she got a sketch pad to fit into her belongings.

She was talented, and not just at flying or drawing, he realized, she was just _talented_. The way she mentioned her brother saying she was special; it was a fact, not an opinion. She was gifted in ways he could not understand just by watching her. He'd have to talk to her, he reasoned, but if he did he wasn't completely sure he would be able to stop thinking about her. There was something about her, something strong and powerful that drew him to her and it wasn't just because she was beautiful.

He wondered if she could dance.

"You snore in your sleep," he commented, settling into his station, making a mark in the logs of the time and their position. She hummed in acknowledgement.

"You're beautiful when you sleep." Was all she said, and she said it so simply, like it was a fact and she just thought he should know. But her words had his head whipping around so fast it hurt. He stared at the side of her head as she leaned over her bag, sliding her drawings carefully into a folder inside and zipping it up.

It took him more than an hour to realize she had drawn on his face.


	2. Day Two

**Day Two**

By the time he'd managed to get most of the ink off his face, Sam was jittery in his seat. He'd been on long missions before, but they were_ interesting_. There was gun fire or bar fights or crazy people with swords like that time those rogue ninjas hijacked that Raptor off the _Triton_. Now he was just _bored_, bored and with an equally bored partner. Sam pushed himself out of his chair, reaching up to the overhead compartments and opening them with a push of a button. Provision storage was, unfortunately, his weakness. When he was bored he ate.

Taking a handful of dried fruit containers and a bag of pre-popped popcorn, he aimed for the back of Mouse's head and tossed the popcorn at her. She dodged it smoothly and grabbed it out of the air before it hit the ground, then tossed it up onto her console until it was lodged against it and the window. He wasn't even shocked.

Mouse turned around in her seat slowly, giving him a look that clearly told him to speak or die.

"Hungry?" She rolled her eyes and he grinned, dropping back into his chair. They were silent for a while, Sam chewing his snacks and watching the back of her head, waiting for her to give in. He smiled triumphantly when she sighed and reached across the panel, grabbing the popcorn and pulling apart the foil until it opened. She stuffed a handful of most likely stale popcorn into her mouth and looked at him, like_ See? Eating. Now leave me the frak alone_. Sam chuckled at her expression and leaned back in his chair, tossing a dried plumb at her to get her attention.

"So what is your name?"

She snorted around her food, peeling the plumb out of her hair and flicking it back at him. "I don't like plumbs," she replied with instead. He continued to stare at her expectantly, and she stared back. She didn't silently tell him _If you're going to ask my name, it's polite to give yours first_. And he didn't reply back with _Yesterday you were complaining that I didn't ask you your name, now you want to know mine?_

"My name's River," she conceded, using her foot to move her chair back and forth. She raised an eyebrow at him._ And you?_

"I'm Sam."

"Ah," she said quietly. "_You're _Sam Winchester."

"And you're River Tam." He remembered her now. She'd been a legend at the fleet academy, before that she'd been a legend in academia, and before that she'd been a prima ballerina, and still before she'd been a prodigy. He knew her name and knew her face—even with all the traveling he did in his teens, he still heard about her. She suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"I didn't enter the fleet to prove I was good at everything," River said softly, twisting apart a piece of popcorn between her fingers. "Just because I am good at everything, I wanted to join the fleet."

It made sense in a really frakked up kind of way. All Sam had wanted to do was put himself through law school, now he was a full time Raptor pilot and he loved it. He loved space, he loved the endless possibilities it could provide. It was one of the only things in the universe that was completely unconquerable, and he loved the feeling that every time he went up he was going down a path that could never have possibly been taken before.

River's wrist tapped against his shoulder and he looked up to see her at the edge of her seat, reaching forward with her hand partially open, holding two white pills. She grinned at him. "Caffeine." She said as way of explanation. He smiled gratefully and took them from her.

_Bottom's up._

But it couldn't have been all caffeine, because half an hour later he was not only bored and _really _awake, but he'd started _tapping_. River kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye and snorting at the tweaked out expression on his face as he tapped his pen against his screen. Finally he gave up, tossing the pen away from him (never to be seen again) and pushed himself out of his seat, reaching out to grab the back of River's and spin it around as he concurrently grabbed his travel bag from against the wall. She 'eeped' as he spun her and suddenly they were the closest they'd ever been. Sam dumped his bag into her lap and pulled out a pack of cards. She raised an eyebrow at the cards and her eyes darted up to meet his.

"What? You want to play Go Fish or something?"

"I was thinking Gin, but Go Fish sounds like so much more fun."

River gave him a dry look. "Awesome."

.

They were sitting on the floor of the Raptor; they'd turned the ship on autopilot after Sam had finally managed to drag River out of her chair (not hard, seeing as how he was at _least _a foot taller than her, but maybe he was exaggerating) and had their cards spread around them. River had a tick, whenever she was annoyed she would play with her hair. He had confused it for anxiety or a tell, but when she had practically _snarled _at him after he suggested they go back to work he realized she was loath to back down from _any _challenge and he amended his previous assumption.

_Bring the crazy out to play…_

Except it just frakking _figured _that she wasn't just good at everything, she was good at _everything. _Sam sighed and tossed his remaining cards at River's chest after losing (again) and propped his forearms on his knees. She cackled in victory, sweeping the cards up into a pile and shuffling them again (a classic dovetail, a prefect Mongean, a faro shuffle – she was showing off, he didn't care and wasn't jealous in the least). She raised her eyebrows in a silent question but kept her eyes on her hands. He shrugged.

"We could play truth or dare."

"What _are you_, twelve?" laughed River in an only semi-serious tone. He kept his face blank when she looked back up at him when he didn't say anything.

"It's either that or strip poker. And it's cold in here."

She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth (he'd call it a gasp, but it was so much more provocative than a gasp). "When did you lose your virginity?"

Sam blinked. "You skipped the 'or Dare' part of truth or dare," he pointed out. She shrugged.

"You were going to pick truth anyways."

It was so _not _cool how she did that.

"What is up with the mind reading?" She gave him a look that said she wouldn't answer him until he answered her first. He ignored it. She sighed.

"Sam-"

"Fine, fifteen, what's up with the mind reading?"

"It's not mind reading, it's deductive reasoning. Did your brother bully you into it?"

"Probably. How do you know I have a brother?" he fired back, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees. She didn't miss a beat.

"It's obvious, you act like a younger sibling, and you're much less secretive then if you'd had an older sister," she pointed to herself. "I would know; I've an older brother too."

"It doesn't explain how you knew I traveled with my dad when I was younger. Or that he liked helping people out in tight situations." Was all he would or could say about _that _subject. She shrugged.

"No it doesn't. Why did you call your last partner Rooster?"

Sam snorted. "Because he can be such a frakking cock sometimes. What'd you say to Tigh to make him try to sucker punch you?"

It was her turn to snort. "I told him that he would lose at cards against Starbuck later and he thought I was talking shit. Why blue?"

He blinked. "Why blue what?"

"Why is blue your favorite color?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it's been engrained in my brain after years and years of road trips. Do you still dance?"

Sam noticed that her hand twitched at her side and heard the barely audible hitch in her breath, like she was offended by the question – like she wanted to slap him for it.

"This is a stupid game," she said quietly, sliding her feet under her body and standing up fluidly. Sam frowned at her.

"That was probably the _easiest _question either of us has asked," said Sam, honestly not believing such a simple question had her so pissed off at him.

"Yeah, well I don't want to answer it."

"It's either this or strip poker."

"Then start stripping, Sasquatch," she stopped and closed her eyes, shaking her head as she brought a hand up to her forehead. "I'm tired," she said quietly. "I didn't react nearly as well to the caffeine pills as you did. I'm going to bed."

"Fine," muttered Sam, still frowning, still curious, but not objecting. River didn't bother stripping out of her suit this time, just walked quickly over to the cot and fell into it, curling into herself with her back facing him. He continued staring at her for a long time, before he sighed in resignation and stood, moving to River's station and flipping off the autopilot.

"I haven't danced since I entered the fleet," said River, so softly Sam almost missed it. He turned his head toward the cot. River had turned over onto her back, her hands folded across her ribs, staring at the ceiling. "It's not something I want to share with the people on those ships. Dancing is everything to me. I won't share it with someone I don't trust, even if it means I have to dance alone."

.

Again, Sam watched her sleep; much more willingly this time, feeling like she opened up to him on some level. But that became tiring, and with nothing to do he switched on the autopilot and (with one cautious look in her sleeping direction) pulled her pack into his lap. He reverted back to his days hunting with Dean, quick and quiet, unzipping her pack and pulling out the drawings she had done while he was sleeping. He memorized the order they were placed in her bag with a glance and started flipping through them.

He silently cursed her talent.

They weren't exact copies of people or objects, they each had a distinctive manga feel to them (Dean would make fun of him for knowing the terminology, until Sam pointed out that Bleach was a manga and that he should shut his frakking face.), but they were wonderfully detailed, simple sketches.

"Stop." The soft voice behind him had Sam freezing. Thinking he'd been caught, he turned his head around slowly, thinking up passible excuses. His shoulders dropped when he realized River was still asleep. Her eyes were moving fast underneath closed lids, her lips parted slightly. Sweat was starting to form around her temples, her breathing becoming increasingly erratic. Sam straightened, concerned, and tossed the drawings onto the console. He stood and made his way over to the cot, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, unsure of what to do. Her head suddenly thrashed to the side.

"Stop…th'blood."

"Hey, woah, hey, River," he grimaced and kneeled down next to the cot, his hands hovering over her body, like he wanted to shake her but wasn't quite sure if he should. He placed one hand on her shoulder. "River, wake up."

She didn't, though. She was an incredibly deep sleeper (compared to who Sam was used to sleeping in the same room with, that is). The mumbling continued and Sam caught the words 'heat' and 'metal' over the sound of heavy breathing. His grip on her shoulder tightened, and in a moment of panic, leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

Her body stilled beneath him, her lips parting slightly under his. He pulled away quickly, checking to make sure she hadn't woken up. Her nightmare seemed to have stopped. Sam sighed, grateful, and leaned back on his heels. He grimaced suddenly.

Hopefully she wouldn't kick his ass for it when she woke up. 


	3. Day Three

I'm sorry I haven't updated this. But in my defense I forgot.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

He was extremely grateful that his face was free of pen marks when he woke up (because it's the first thing he checked. River smirked at him from her station, not looking in his direction as he scowled at a spot near her ear when he recalled _what _she drew on him and how grossly accurate it was.); he was also pleasantly surprised at the lack of boot marks on his person. Meaning River didn't know he kissed her in her sleep.

He started around her whenever she moved anyway, just in case she wanted to do the kicking of his ass while he was awake to enjoy it. She looked too amused by that when all she did was hand him a thermos of coffee and bagged cereal.

"There've been some funny signals being picked up on the readout." She said after sitting back down at her station. Sam forwent being weird for a moment and grabed the said readout, scanning it quickly. With a frown he read it again, more slowly.

"This is…"

"Right?"

"What the hell?" he mused out loud, turning to his monitors. They picked up nothing. "How is something that big and uncharted not showing up on the screens?"

"Some kind of Cylon technology?" River and Sam looked at each other seriously.

And burst out laughing.

"What the hell would Cylon's be doing in the middle of nowhere?"

River gave him a look. "It's space, Sasquatch. _Everywhere _is the middle of nowhere."

Sam ignored her and flipped a few switches to adjust his readings. Something blipped on the screen for a moment before it disappeared. Sam frowned at the screen it had been on and tried to bring it back, turning dials carefully.

"Sam."

Sam hummed in response, not looking up from his screens. River said his name again, more urgently this time. He flicked his eyes over to her. "What?"

"Power down the ship," she said seriously. Sam straightened. _"Power down the ship, Sam."_

He leaned back in his chair, looking where she was looking and felt horror seize up inside him. He sat up quickly, his forehead nearly smashing against the LED light overhead in his rush to get the ship down as fast as possible. The buzz of the ship died around them, the lights cutting off completely. In the darkness Sam stood up and moved his way over to River, sitting in the chair next to her and leaning forward to see above them. River place her hand next to his on the console as she joined him in staring up at the Cylon baseship above them.

"Why didn't the scanners pick this up?" whispered Sam. His heart was pounding so hard in his ears that he wasn't sure that River couldn't hear it.

Her fingers twitched against his in response.

.

It took an hour for the Cylons to move out of scanning range before Sam felt comfortable enough to turn their ship back on. How they managed to get away alive, he didn't know. They were close enough to _look _like a ship, not just a pile of debris.

"We need to report to the_ Galactica_," said Sam, adding a return course into the FTL.

"Don't bother." He froze in his movements, waiting for River to continue. "It's too late. The best we can do is to send back a wave and hope they receive it in time. Hopefully we can cut off the _Colonial_ before it reaches Caprica and get them back under the protection of _Galactica—_"

"You are insane."

River stopped mid-sentence, her mouth still open to continue. Sam had spoken quietly, his eyes focused on his hands as they worked. He was continuing their course, just like she wanted. She didn't look at him, but the tension in the ship increased uncomfortably. He'd touched a nerve he shouldn't have, probably the only thing he could have called her that would have been worse would've been _freak_ or _witch_. He noticed a tremor in her shoulders, but refused to look at her. He continued to do his duty, counting off a jump that would bring them closer to Caprica and pretended she had a cold in their room temperature, completely hygienic spacecraft. He refused to feel bad. _Refused_.

They didn't speak again that day.


	4. Day Four

**Day Four**

They formed a mutual agreement in the morning. Sam admitted he was sorry and unreasonable, but River still refused to go back to _Galactica_. There was a tense moment where Sam nearly put in the last known coordinates to their parent ship and jumped back to them, but he decided against it. What could they do? Warn them, if it wasn't already too late? Besides, they were nearly at Caprica, Sam could see its suns through the window in the distance.

He blinked.

"Oh god."

River was untangling her hair from her ponytail when he stood from his station and moved to the windshield, staring out into space with his mouth open. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows quirking downward briefly.

"Sam?"

"Caprica's on fire," he breathed. "The entire planet… it's on _fire_."

"_What?_" River's ponytail was halfway out of her hair when she abandoned it and rushed to his side, placing her hand against the center of his back. Her other hand flew to her mouth. "_Gods._"

"The Cylons are nuking the planet."

She didn't stay next to him for long though, some part of her training must have kicked in because she spun around, heading toward his console, leaving behind the distinct feeling that she was forgetting something.

"Sam, what are our exact coordinates?" He didn't answer; he was still staring out at Caprica, watching it burn. River looked at him sharply and slammed her hand against the console. "Sam!"

"We should go down there and help," he said instead. River shook her head.

"We'll rendezvous back with the fleet, and don't think this means you won, you haven't-"

"River, those _people_—"

"We can't help them if we're dead!" interrupted River. "Those Cylon baseships were headed to the other colonies. We have to jump back to _Galactica, now_."

Sam shook his head in affirmation numbly, but made no other movement. River gave him a long look.

"Genocide is a different experience when you can only watch it happen, isn't it?" She locked in a jump to take them back in the direction of _Galactica _and counted down in her head, moving back to stand beside Sam, placing one hand on his back to keep him steady.

_One Infinity. Two Infinity. Three Mississippi. Jump._

Sam stayed silent and River let him. She knew him (somehow), knew how he felt about leaving _all _those people behind, people he could have saved, maybe even people he had saved _once_. He would need time to come back to himself. She left him standing by the window, muttering that if he was going to be comatose there he might as well take first watch.

She eased herself into the cot and immediately closed her eyes; she concentrated on the still rocking feeling in her insides from the jump to fall asleep.

"It's only the beginning, isn't it?" River kept her eyes closed when he spoke, even though he was looking straight at her. She sighed into the mattress.

"Yes. And no power in the 'verse will stop them." 


	5. Day Five

**Day Five**

He seemed less pissed off at himself after he'd been left alone for a few hours. The shock of watching an entire planet destroyed and being able to do nothing about it was wearing off. There was literally _nothing_ they could have done to help. At least nothing that would have made an impact. Sam glanced at her when she woke, sitting at his station like a good boy.

"Decommissioning ceremony for the _Galactica_ is later today," he paused. "Or it was supposed to be."

"We wouldn't have made it anyways," muttered River. "Did you want to go?"

"Not really. Just making conversation."

"Get over it," snapped River. "Stop being such a girl and do your duty. Who knows how many people have died? We can't mourn them all, so don't waste your time."

He considered her words carefully for a moment. Then, "Jerk."

"Bitch." She snapped back. Her response seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders and he smirked at his screens. It confused the hell out of her, but as long as he wasn't being a broody baby, she'd let it go.

"My brother was on Caprica," he said suddenly, and River felt her gut twist painfully, because _her brother_ was on Caprica too, and _that_ was what she had been forgetting. _Simon._

"Gods," she muttered, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. She could feel tears start climbing up in her eyes and pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out. Sam didn't glance at her.

"Suck it up," was all she heard before a rush of typing filled up the silence.

.

"Something's wrong," muttered Sam, frowning hard at the screen in front of him. River turned her head, eyes red and searching over his face before she tilted her head curiously and slipped out of her chair, leaning over his shoulder to examine the problem. Sam mentally shook his head; it was probably nothing, just a glitch. They could proceed with the jump and everything would be fine.

Even he couldn't seriously believe that.

River nodded slowly, unsure, but stepped away from his console, giving him room to prepare the jump that would take them back to the _Galactica._

Sam couldn't help the queasy feeling that rose up in his throat as he prepped the FTL drive. He kept glancing at the back of River's head, who was sitting unnaturally still, almost like she was waiting for something. Despite the dread that he couldn't seem to shake, Sam muttered off the countdown.

_Jump._

The interior alarm lights flashed a warning, but that was the only sign of distress they got before an asteroid the size of a car drifted in front of their windshield and they collided. The force sent Sam flying out of his seat, knocking out their interior lights and power momentarily. River was swearing, bracing her hands against the side of her console as they were hit again and again. The first pane of glass cracked along the side, splintering toward the center. Sam managed to climb to his feet, his vision spinning, and tried to plot a new jump.

"Don't bother," shouted River. "It's frakked. EVERYTHING is frakked."

"Can't you get us out of here?" asked Sam, holding onto the edge of his chair as he attempted to belt himself to it. River shook her head, but tried anyways.

"Thrusters won't get us clear of the belt," she shouted back to him, going slightly pale as another asteroid passed dangerously close. "Not in the direction we want to go, at least."

"Which direction?" Sam looked at her quickly and she pointed.

"We'll head directly into the star," she said gravely. "But it's either that or—"

"We get sucked out," he finished for her. He took a deep breath. "Do it."

"Frak," muttered River, doing as he said all the same, then again, louder. "_Frak_."

"Just do it," whispered Sam, closing his eyes, not really speaking to her. His fingers went white against the leather of his chair.

She really was a brilliant pilot. He doubted even Starbuck could have gotten them out of that belt without frakking up (but she was a masochist and would probably hit every single one in their path just for fun). But River was amazing to watch, scared as he was that they were going to die—

_Don't die. Don't die. Don't die on me now, not when we're so close to freedom. Hear it ring._

—and in as much pain as he was in from being thrown around the cabin of their ship (later she'd tell him that's what he got for not wearing a seat belt. Safety first, bitch.), he wouldn't have looked away from her for anything. If she was nervous (she was; he was projecting) she didn't show it in her flying. Sam nearly passed out from holding his breath in anticipation when they were finally clear of any immediate danger. He took a breath and blew it back out slowly, slumping back against the wall he ended up against.

The only light in the ship was coming from the emergency lights lined along the floor and the star shining at their side, slowly and steadily pulling them closer. Sam stood, looking around to assess the damage.

Then he realized he was bleeding.

"Frak," he murmured, wincing as he wiped blood off his jaw, tugging at the torn flesh near his temple. He knew why he was dizzy, at least. River turned to look at him, hearing the pain in his voice. She hissed, standing quickly and moving over to him.

"Damn," she grabbed his chin and turned his head to the side, squinting carefully up at his wound through the darkness. She released him and turned, looking for something to stop the bleeding. She reached for the cot blanket, ripping off one of the corners, using her teeth and nails. She turned back to Sam and pressed the rag against his face.

With Sam mostly fixed, she panicked.

"Oh gods, oh gods, we're all going to die," she kept repeating under her breath, unable to look Sam in the face, her legs itching to pace. Sam was trying to get her to calm down (even when he himself found no reason to; he wanted to panic just as badly, but they couldn't both freak out. One of them at least had to stay sane; he wondered why it wasn't her).

"We'll be fine," said Sam desperately, trying to believe it. River whirled on him.

"Frak you we'll be _fine_," she snarled. "Would you stop projecting you emotions onto me? Gods, how can someone feel this much at one time! I should be trying to fix the _ship_, but I_ can't _because I'm not a frakking _god—_"

"River! _Everything _is going to be okay!" insisted Sam, grabbing her shoulders roughly with one hand, bending his knees until he was eyelevel with her. River swatted at said invasion of her personal space, moving his hand off her shoulder and managed to step away. She whirled around and nearly bumped into her chair. She placed her hands on it and gripped at the leather, her teeth clenched together in fury.

"You don't know_ that!_" she hissed, her voice higher, trying not to let the presence of tears in her eyes affect her voice. "Our nav con is frakked, the FTL drive is completely gone and the only good news is that we know where were headed, which just happens to be the_ worst _news. _How _is _anything _going to be alright?"

Sam shook his head, he had no idea. He had no idea if anything was going to be okay. In all likelihood it wasn't. He pulled the bloody rag away from his temple, grimacing at the pain. River's expression softened and she reached out, taking his hand and pulling the bloody fabric into her hands. She shook her head and pressed the cloth back to his wound.

"This is bad," she commented softly, moving him to sit on the floor next to the storage containers near the back of the ship. She sat next to him on his left. "You might have a concussion."

"It feels like a concussion," admitted Sam. "You'll have to keep me awake."

"No drugs," muttered River. "The caffeine I gave you a few days ago would just be harmful."

"Do you want to play cards?" asked Sam, his eyes moving away from River's face in an attempt to locate the deck they'd abandoned. He stopped moving when the motion hurt his head too much, only his eyes ended up landing on the breasts hovering in front of his face. He swallowed.

"I'll think of something," said River, her attention completely on the blood leaking from his skull. She sighed. "I hate treating head wounds. They bleed too much."

She left one hand pressed against Sam's head, and with her other she reached across and above him to grab the first-aid hanging from the wall. Her chest pressed softly against Sam's face for a moment, and when she settled back down she had somehow maneuvered into his lap for a better angle, her legs straddling his hips.

She replaced the rag with gauze and ointment and tape, using a liquid dermal to stich his wound together and dressing it carefully, avoiding the hair falling into his face. Except he wasn't at all paying attention to her mad doctoring skills. He was staring down her tank top; he was concentrating on the feeling of her weight against his, the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against him. His cock twitched in response to his thoughts.

"I'm going to get fired," he muttered thickly. River looked a bit startled at his words, glancing down at him briefly before going back to her bandage.

"For getting wounded? I doubt it. Just use your seat belt next time you activate the FTL."

"Shut up, River," murmured Sam, sliding one hand around her waist and the other up her back between her shoulder blades, pulling her against him and leaning up slightly to kiss her. She froze in his lap, as if she hadn't known she'd been there the entire time, like she had no idea he was going to act on all the thoughts he'd rolled over in his head the few days they'd been together. She'd had men lusting after her before, sure, but they'd never _acted _on those thoughts, not knowing that she could kick their asses without even breaking a sweat.

River made a noise in the back of her throat that was quickly swallowed by Sam's tongue in her mouth. His fingers were digging into her shirt, pulling the material taunt against her body. _Gods _but the boy could kiss.

She managed to clear her head long enough to pull away, breathing hard. She'd not been prepared to be kissed; she hadn't had the proper amount of oxygen in her lungs to be kissing him for so long. His lips were swollen and River had the urge to run her tongue over them.

"Wait." She managed to grind out, just before Sam pulled her back into him. He growled in displeasure. "You don't want to do this."

He snorted at her. "I thought you were a mind reader? You should know this is _exactly_," he emphasized his words by grinding her hips down on him, "What I want." She swallowed thickly, but recovered alarmingly fast, though her voice was a little off when she spoke.

"You can't possibly."

"I didn't peg you for the shy type, Mouse," said Sam, his eyebrows furrowing. She snorted and reached up to flick his nose; he snapped his teeth at her fingers.

"I'm not shy."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Because if we have sex, you'll be even more exhausted then you already are, and how will I keep you awake then?"

"Stop being logical," murmured Sam, his eyes back on her mouth. He leaned up to kiss her softly.

"But—'

"_Shut the frak up_ and get undressed, soldier."

She laughed at him, actually laughed, head thrown back and everything. When she was finished she looked back at him, eyes still sparkling with mirth.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted, pausing halfway up her stomach to look at him questioningly. "Are you sure you can handle me? I_ am_ good at everything."

Sam snorted, sliding his hand up her bare back, helping the shirt along, enjoying the feel of her skin beneath his palms. "We'll see about that."

.

She rode him and he bit her, drew his teeth along her collarbone so many times it was nearly raw. He had moon shaped depressions peppered along his back and shoulders. There were long, finger shaped bruises forming along her hips and the grate around the vessel had dug into every piece of flesh it came into contact with, leaving behind patterns on their skin. She whispered things against his ear as she rode out her orgasm, things he didn't even know he knew; things about himself that he'd only touched on in trying to figure out.

But they were sated and sore, pleasantly so, their shoulders touching as they sat next to each other on the cot they'd neglected to use, passing the plastic container of "alcohol" to each other every few minutes.

"Little Mouse…why?" asked Sam suddenly, leaning forward until he could brace his forearms against his knees. She shrugged.

"I crawl into places I don't belong. A troublesome pest, impossible, overly curious. I suppose it doesn't matter what the meaning is. But maybe you weren't asking about my callsign, maybe you were asking why I can crawl into places. That I know things—shadows of your thoughts. See?" She turned her head to look at him, almost sadly. "Troublesome. Simon always said I was a brat for using what I know to my own advantage."

"Simon?" asked Sam, looking over at her.

"My older brother." River smiled wistfully at the thought of him, looking proud. "He's brilliant."

"Do you miss him? You know, being in the fleet and unable to see him."

She nodded, hair falling across her shoulders. Sam reached up to brush the mess behind her ear, his fingers lingering against the waves, sliding his hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. He tasted like her, he knew, while her tongue held the coppery aftertaste of blood, from biting through her lower lip. He swept his tongue across the wound, soothing the residual sting.

"He's most likely dead now," she whispered. "He would never put himself before someone else, if he's still alive he's trying to help people-"

"It's okay, River," said Sam soothingly, reaching up to take her chin between his fingers and turning her face towards him, running his lips over hers. She kissed him back hard, pushing him backwards onto the cot and straddling his hips.

He wasn't allowed to sleep, but he forced her to lay down with him, and took the liberty of watching her sleep, like he had so enjoyed all week.

Left to his thoughts, he wondered what Dean would do in a situation like this. There wasn't much to do. Either somehow reach the _Galactica _or any ship (impossible, they were dead in the water) or use magic.

Most people would have thought of magic as a tension easier; he was thinking of it as a serious option. After all, he never went anywhere without the Hunter essentials. Sam thought the idea was a little ludicrous; he hadn't done a summoning ritual in months, not since Dean had practically dragged him off the _Galactica _and made him hunt a hell hound. But now, with no other sane choice possible…

He was going to summon a demon. Joy. 


	6. Day Six

**Day Six**

Sam didn't even notice when River woke up, he was concentrating too hard on keeping his lines straight and his symbols perfectly accurate. Say what you would about Sam Winchester, but he wasn't a frak up. He'd dressed, complete with flight suit, just in case the demon he summoned was _displeased _and decided to walk out the front door.

"_What the frak are you doing?_" Sam spun around on his knees, blinking up at a stark naked River who was staring at the drawing on the floor with a horrified look on her face. Her hands were shaking. Sam couldn't help the way his eyes fell down her body, but they snapped back up when River spoke again.

"And you think_ I'm _the freak?" Sam grimaced. "You're _insane_."

He didn't really think so. "I just want to be alive and normal."

"Frak normal! What you're doing is so far beyond normal it's crossing into forced institutionalization! Sure, I can read minds, big deal. _You're _summoning demons on a _frakking _spaceship!"

He didn't even wonder how she knew about demons; she probably knew about it all, given River was who River was— all awesome and shit. But it was too late for her to convince him; he had already lit the last candle and was flipping open the cover of a worn, heavily used leather book. Without hesitation, Sam read the passage, ignoring River who was turning a little green the further he read. She turned away from him and grabbed her underwear as he uttered the last syllable.

"Oh please, love, don't dress on my account." She didn't bother looking up, but Sam's heart stuttered. He hated when demons did that, appearing when you'd just looked away. Sam balked, recognizing the demon he'd happened to summon, wearing a bowler hat and suit, sunglasses low on his nose and black eyes fading to blue behind them.

"_Crowley?_"

"Hello, Sam," said the crossroads demon conversationally, turning to the Winchester and giving him a once over. "Still playing with Latin? Didn't your daddy ever tell you that was a bad idea?"

"Why the hell are you here?"

"Because you summoned him, dumbass," muttered River, just loud enough for Sam and Crowley to hear. She pulled her suit over her legs, kicking as one of the pant legs twisted around her foot.

"River, Crowley is a—"

"Special favor, Sam," interrupted Crowley, then with a casual wave of his hand, "I was in the area."

River snorted. "What? Taking a walk in space? How charming."

Crowley gave Sam a sympathetic look. "You're girlfriend doesn't seem too pleased, considering the situation you're in and the help I can provide."

"We don't want your help," murmured River, walking past the two men and towards Sam's station, sitting down in his chair and concentrating on the maps. Crowley chuckled.

"You might not, but Sam seems to. Don't you, Sam." He rolled his eyes and stood, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Special favor?"

"To Azazel," said Crowley. River shuddered violently, her fingers curling into fists. Sam glanced at her, concerned, and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, when Crowley interrupted. "You remember him, don't you, Sam?"

Again, he rolled his eyes. Of course he knew the Yellow Eyed Demon. Knew him personally. "He sent you to make a deal with us? For what price?"

"The same price he asks for_ every _girl and boy he deals with," began Crowley with a slow smirk. His gaze slid to River, who had gone very, very still. "Ten years."

"No."

He continued anyway, as if River hadn't interrupted. "_However-_"

"Leave."

Sam looked around at River, hearing the snarl that he never would have pictured her using, demon or not. Her clenched fist was shaking on her knee, and she was turned toward them, glaring murder at Crowley. His smirk grew.

"But you haven't heard the best part of the deal." Crowley turned to Sam, his head tilting to the side smoothly. "He's only asking for a little over a year. No waiting, no looking over your shoulder, no _forgetting—_"

"Go back to Hell," she interrupted again in the same snarl, standing up from her chair quickly. Sam was running through everything he had ever learned of the demon who had killed his mother, of everything it had done to his family and families like his. Suddenly, he had finally caught on, and he turned away from River and toward Crowley, disbelief written over his face.

"You want our _child?_"

"_I_ don't," admitted Crowley in defense. "I couldn't bleeding care less for the thing. I'd much rather make out with my straightforward deals, ten years on the dot, no questions, fine print or discussion needed. Just seal it with a kiss and be on my way."

"Go gamble with someone else's life."

The demon smirked at her, all teeth and false niceness, but he straightened his tie and tilted his hat, raising an eyebrow to silently ask her opinion. She sneered at him.

"Like a right badger."

Crowley tipped his hat at her, black swirling into his eyes. "Cheers, girly."

And then he was gone, not a puff of smoke or a shimmer or a blink of an eye. He ceased to be in front of them, the pressure of evil vanishing with him. Sam narrowed his eyes onto River, but the look was forced and she didn't mind. He didn't mean it, and if he had been thinking clearly, he wouldn't try to make her believe it either.

"We're going to die."

"We always were," said River softly, turning away from Sam. "You would have him take a child and have Azazel use it for himself?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "We don't have a child."

"He seemed to be insinuating that he knew differently," said River, not looking at him, as she hadn't since Crowley appeared in front of them. Sam looked at her sharply, his eyes dropping down to her abdomen on their own. A baby…the thought was sobering, but it was useless information considering the situation they were in. But still, River's question was still looping around his head. _Would_ he have given the demon his own child? He knew what it was like, to grow up with demons over your shoulder, to know that his mother was dead because of one.

They would make a beautiful child together, him and River. Maybe it would have even given his dad an opportunity to stop the hunt (if he was still alive, who knew how many planets the Cylons had destroyed so far); given Dean a reason to stay in one spot. He forced his gaze back to her face and his eyes narrowed.

"How the hell do you know what he was? Huh? Or what he wanted?"

"You know the answer to that, Sam," said River, one hand dropping to her hip, tugging on the fabric of her uniform, like she wanted to protect her unborn child with it but couldn't bring herself to physically, like it would be too real. But they couldn't have a child if they were dead. He told her this and was met with cold brown eyes.

"That is the alternative."

He shut off then, turning away from the woman who was possibly carrying his child and focusing on the star charts and plots spread across his station. He sighed heavily and pulled off the top part of his suit, feeling too hot.

Too hot to be safe. 


	7. Day Seven

**Day Seven**

Sam blinked, stunned, and looked out the window sharply. They were getting closer to the sun. He swallowed. Crowley must have done something, either sped up their travel time, or turned off the gradually growing heat in his presence, but they were definitely closer.

"River," started Sam cautiously, moving out of his chair and closer to the windshield, bracing his arm against the frame and looking out as much as he could, trying to get a better angle. She didn't answer him. "_River._"

"_What?_" she asked, snapping her head around to look at him. She blinked and stood as well, joining him by the window. "F-_Frak_."

"How long before the radiation leaks through?"

River shook her head. "We'll be fine. We'll die of hyperthermia before radiation poisoning, but I don't know which would be worse."

"We need to seal ourselves in," said Sam, turning away from the glass to look around the pod.

They had limited options, but the first thing they could do was to block out the window with their cot mattresses. River nodded in agreement, following his lead. In minutes they had the window blocked and their provisions scattered around the floor, tossing the things they wouldn't need or couldn't use, rationing their liquid supply. River had peeled off her suit from her body and shredded it, laying it across the metal grating just in case the floor became too hot to sit on.

She left her boots on. He did the same.

"_From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire_," quoted River softly, sitting on the floor and leaning back. Sam snorted and joined her, bare skin brushing.

"Frost," he answered dryly. "How appropriate."

River smirked at him. "You sound like me."

"We are in space, about to be burned alive." He shrugged. "_Fire and Ice _by Robert Frost. It is very, _very_ fitting."

River nodded in silent agreement, settling into a more comfortable position on the floor. Sam looked at her carefully for a moment. She had really been opposed to Crowley's presence on the craft, more so than he would have thought.

"Was it because he's a demon?" he asked, knowing she would glean what he was talking about. She shot him a patronizing look.

"Of course it is," she looked away from him and snorted. "Do you know how many millennia he's been around? Killing people for their selfishness? You've messed with demons before you should know they can't be trusted-"

"I know_ that_ but I didn't think we really had any choice seeing as how we are GOING TO DIE _anyway_," interrupted Sam angrily. "And how the hell do _you_ know about any of this anyways?"

"Oh gee, I don't know, maybe because I'm _frakking omniscient_," snarled River. "Maybe you're not the only person who's been touched by a demon, Sam, you ever thought of that? I read Crowley when he appeared in front of us and it made me want to be _physically sick_. You can't possibly imagine the kinds of things he's seen and done to people. And hell hounds? Hades himself doesn't know what demons do to mortals outside the underworld with those dogs."

"You really are a mind reader." River shook her head.

"I'm just…who knows?"

"You don't even know?"

"I don't even _want_ to know," countered River, swiping at her cheek with her palm. "If someone…I can't be more than a fantastically brilliant, slightly crazy Viper pilot without someone looking too closely at me. The safest place to hide from the government is in the government, my mom always said."

"What could they do to you?" asked Sam, his eyes tracing her neck.

"I'm sure they would think of something."

.

Sam didn't want to think, couldn't, it hurt too much. He had no idea if River was unconscious or dead, it took too much effort (too much unnecessary pain) to check. His skin had started blistering and bleeding hours ago (maybe minutes), and he couldn't open his eyes without feeling like they were evaporating in his skull.

There was a possibility that even if they _were _found, it wouldn't make a difference. They would die. The candles from Sam's demon summoning had melted and formed pools of black on the floor, bleeding into the chalk pentagram.

So another ritual was out.

The echoing sounds of metal caught his ear, but that wasn't anything new. They'd been hearing that sound more and more the closer they got. When it came again, louder this time, closer and almost _scraping_, Sam's eyes snapped open.

Through the black and white haze of shadows and light Sam watched as two stiff figures pried open the hatch. Hot air shot out of and around the ship in a gust. Sam tried to blink through it and managed to glimpse the silhouette of a woman walking toward them.

There was muttering and the two human-like figures moved forward into Raptor. One of them pulled River up by her arm. Sam parted his lips to protest, but before he could try, the other was pulling him up as well.


	8. The Eighth Day

**Day Eight  
><em>Galactica<em>**

He had come aboard the _Galactica_ to see his sister. Then the Cylons attacked and suddenly the Chief Doctor _really _needed an extra trauma surgeon. He was happy to provide his services, really, but what he really wanted to know was—

"'Scuse me." Simon's thought process was interrupted by a man with a broken leg sitting on a steel examination table (they'd run out of beds and he'd seemed fine with sitting somewhere other than on the floor). He was slightly pale, but he was grinning at Simon. "You seen Sasquatch?"

Simon blinked at him. "Who?"

The man gave him an odd look, then his eyes widened. "You don't work on ship?"

"I work in Caprica City," said Simon, and then winced slightly. "_Worked_." He held out his hand. "Doctor Simon Tam."

"Dean," replied the other man simply. He leaned back on his hands and gave Simon a measured look. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see my sister," explained Simon. Dean winced and sat back up, causing the doctor in him to start forward. "Have you gotten that properly looked at?"

He shrugged. "It's been set, but the old guy had people to take care of who actually _work _here, so it's cool that I don't get priority."

Simon sighed and made to look at it more closely when a flash of blonde caught his eye. He turned sharply, recognizing the Viper pilot arguing at someone's turned back. "Kara!"

Dean winced again when Starbuck turned and walked over to them, but it wasn't from any pain in his leg. She ignored him completely. "Doctor Tam. I didn't know you were here."

"I came to see River," explained Simon. "Have you seen her?"

Dean figured the wince from Starbuck meant that something was wrong.

"She's…out on a mission," she started slowly. "She should have actually been back by now."

Simon frowned at her. "What was the mission?"

"I can't tell you that," said Starbuck haughtily. Dean didn't buy that.

"Bullshit, there's a war going on, where's his sister? And where's Sam?"

Starbuck glared at him, her fingers twitching to sucker punch him. "_You're _not part of the fleet," she snarled. "I don't know why Sasquatch considers you a friend anyway—"

"Where the frak is my sister?" interrupted Simon. "What was her mission?"

Starbuck sighed at the interruption. "She's near Caprica most likely, I sent her and Sasquatch on a wide perimeter sweep of the_ Galactica_. They were supposed to be back two days ago."

"Sasquatch?" repeated Simon, looking at Dean. "Isn't that the guy you were looking for?"

He nodded. "Sam. He's already got a Raptor partner though."

"River flies Vipers," said Simon in an accusing voice, turning to Starbuck. "What is she doing in a Raptor?"

"As punishment for striking a superior." Simon's jaw dropped.

"_River?_"

"Why aren't they back?" asked Dean, his eyes hard. "And what the hell are they doing on a crap assignment like that anyway? A Viper pilot and a seasoned officer like Sam doing _perimeter checks?_That's something you make rookies do."

"Why do you care?" snapped Starbuck. "You treat Sasquatch like crap; don't pretend you like him now."

"_He's my little brother!_" shouted Dean, causing Starbuck's mouth to drop open in shock, along with catching the attention of a few others within range. "I'm not supposed to treat him _well_. That would defeat the purpose of being an older brother."

"Are they even still alive?" asked Simon softly, cutting Starbuck and Dean off of their glaring contest. Starbuck shook her head, holding up her hands and backing away from the other brothers.

"Hey, I have no frakking idea. Who knows who's even alive anymore, anyway?"

.

Dean sat alone on Sam's bunk, staring at his baby brother's things. The strong possibility that he was dead was eating him up inside. The Raptor most likely got caught up in the invasion of the Colonies and destroyed, like every other ship the Cylons came into contact with.

If he was alive, _if_, then there was no way he would be able to get back to the _Galactica_alive.

The hatch opened, startling Dean out of his reverie. He looked up to see Simon looking around with a frown on his face. His eyes were red and glassy, like he'd been crying. Dean didn't even have the heart to judge him, not when he had been and still felt like doing the same.

"Simon," he greeted hoarsely, placing the photo of himself and Sam and their Dad onto the mattress next to him. Simon startled at his name, but relaxed when he noticed it was just Dean.

"Hi," he replied back with lamely. "I'm just," he gestured to the room. "Trying to keep out of the way."

"Yeah," murmured Dean, glancing at his leg. "I know what you mean."

"Is that your brother?" asked Simon, noticing the picture beside Dean. He glanced down at it and picked it up, handing it out for Simon to look at.

"Yup, that's Sammy."

Simon blinked at the photo. "He's…"

"A frakking giant? Yeah." Dean smirked, despite himself. Simon pulled his own photo from the pocket inside his coat, looking at it for a long moment before handing it over to Dean, along with his picture of Sam.

"That's my sister," he explained. Dean's eyes lingered on Simon in the picture before shifting over to River, smiling brightly into the camera with her arms wrapped around one of Simon's in a purple dress and combat boots.

"She's pretty," he said softly. And totally Sam's type, especially if she was some sort of badass Viper pilot. He handed Simon back his photo and the two men sat and stood in silence respectively. Suddenly, Dean snorted. "Frak Kara Thrace."

Simon nodded in agreement. "And frak Colonel Tigh."

Dean stood up awkwardly from Sam's bunk and shifted to the partially open door of Sam's locker, where he'd dug out the photo. There was a bottle of alcohol on the floor underneath a sock and something Dean really hoped wasn't a condom. He pulled out the bottle and sloshed it in Simon's direction, sitting back heavily on Sam's bunk, leaning against the wall. Simon contemplated for a minute before joining him, fingering the edge of his photo.

Dean popped the cork out with his teeth and spit it out across the room before taking a cautionary swig of the clear liquid. It tasted like motor oil and made him gag, but he swallowed it down anyway and handed Simon the bottle. He sniffed the contents and winced.

"What _is_this—?"

"Don't think about it," replied Dean quickly with a shake of his head. Simon swallowed and closed his eyes, tipping back the bottle quickly and shortly. He coughed it up a bit, but managed to keep the majority of it down. Dean tried not to grin at Simon's reaction as he took it back, taking a breath and a drink.

They sat in silence, passing the time with sips from the bottle and staring into space.

"What's she like?" asked Dean, leaning closer to Simon on the cot, looking up at him with glassy eyes. Simon released a slow breath, slumping back against the wall.

"She's… a prodigy who wanted to be a Viper pilot," said Simon. That seems to be all he needed to say because Dean nodded in understanding. Simon looked down at him. "Do you think they got along?"

Dean held up the picture of Sam in front of his face, reaching over Simon and raising his wrist to hold up his sister's photo, moving both images together until Sam and River were standing side-by-side. Dean scoffed.

"Hate to say it, but I think they frakked." Simon's laugh was pained, but genuine; and in his more than tipsy state, fell over into Dean's shoulder and stayed there.

"Frak, I'm going to miss her," muttered Simon heavily, closing his eyes and turning his face into Dean's neck. He forgave him because he was a doctor and drunk and had just lost his sister, and really, any human contact was good contact in Dean's mind at the moment. He pillowed his cheek against Simon's head, feeling the effects of Sam's moonshine starting to kick in.

"I just hope they managed to somehow survive out there."

.

River woke up warm, curled on her side in a bed that felt like the one she had at home. It _smelled_like the one she had at home, clean and barely used. She kept her eyes closed as she snuggled further into the sheets cocooning her, a jolt of surprise running through her when an arm tightened around her waist, pulling her against a hard muscled chest. She wondered idly what Sam was doing in her bed, but turned around in his embrace and into his warmth anyways.

To a normal person with normal brain function, it might have been at this point when they began to realize they weren't in bed at home, and a person they only had contact with on a spaceship could not possibly have been with them, but River wasn't a normal person with normal brain function. She was a highly gifted soldier with above genius level intelligence and moments of psychic clarity.

And she really,_ really_didn't want to open her eyes.

Sam shifted awake beside her and before he managed to open his eyes, she clamped down on his arm with her fingernails, stilling his movement.

"River—"

River shushed him quickly and opened her eyes, wincing at the bright lights. A far away tapping sound caught her attention and against her better judgment she lifted her head and stared in the direction the noise was coming from. She sat up slowly, Sam's arm sliding into her lap; not bothering to look around at the white on white on sterile that she knew was there. She could hear the whirring of machines just outside the arching doorway now that she was listening. They were lying on a bed, naked save for their boots. The only sign that they had been burning alive was the slightly sunburnt color of their skin and the blisters on her lips.

Sam was looking up at her bare back, his eyes moving up her spine and tangled hair to the part of her face he could see.

"Where are we?" he asked softly. "_How_are we…?"

"Listen," whispered River. Sam fell silent, listening to the echo of what River was now sure were footsteps. "Someone's coming."

Sam pressed his palm against her stomach, a protective weight to keep his heart steady. He could remember what had taken him out of the ship just before he blacked out.

"Twelve….Eleven….Ten…." whispered River, her own hands creeping down to cover Sam's. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Nine…." Sam sat up behind her, his chest brushing against her shoulder. The footsteps were so very close; he could almost make out the shape of a woman walking toward them against the brightness. River swallowed. "….Eight."

The shadows broke across her face as the woman stepped through the doorway, smiling at the pair in the center of the room. The machine noise River had noticed earlier turned out to be a pair of Cylons guarding their room. They moved in after her, guarding her back. Sam felt his mouth go dry.

"Boomer?"

"Sharon is fine. After all," not-Boomer crossed her arms over her chest, leaning forward with a knowing smile on her face. "She's only one of many."

"Boomer's a Cylon?" muttered Sam rhetorically. River swallowed thickly, her eyes fluttering shut as she bit back her nausea. "There are…"

"The Cylons have human form," said River. "I didn't want to tell you—"

"You knew—wait, of course you knew," Sam shook his head, huffing in disbelief. He glared at Sharon. "And we're prisoners, aren't we?"

"Of course," she said,_ it's only the most obvious answer_. "The others thought you would react better to a familiar face."

Sam snorted. "They were very wrong, whoever they are."

"I was wrong," said River softly, turning her head to look at Sam and ignoring Sharon's subtle facial change from complacence to indignation. "And I'm not often wrong. We should have taken the deal."

"The deal?" asked Sam, still staring at Sharon, not processing River's words for a moment. When he did he balked.

"But how lucky for _us_," began Sharon, backing out of the room, her smile falling off her face as the shadows obscured it once again. "That you didn't."

The Cylons left in the room straightened to attention with Sharon's leave, each transforming an arm into a weapon and pointing at the pair. Sam eyed them warily, moving an arm up and around River's shoulders, pulling her closer.

"It was better that we didn't," he muttered into her hair, still watching the robots. "We're alive, we can escape."

"Don't you get it, Sam?" asked River harshly, glaring at him. "We _can't._"

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, not looking at her. Her glare softened and she sighed.

"We're prisoners of war," she explained. "On a_ Cylon baseship_. We're not going anywhere for a long time."

"What about-" Sam stopped abruptly, causing River to turn her head to look at him, but he wasn't looking at her face. She followed his gaze. Sam sucked in a breath. "What 'It' meant, how they were lucky we didn't take the deal with Crowley, and what you interpreted from Crowley about being..." he trailed off, and River put the pieces together. If she was pregnant, he meant. If she was pregnant and the Cylons knew then what did they want.

"Good question," muttered River, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "They don't know the answer though, none of them know anything."

"Then who are they following?" River shrugged. Sam sighed and leaned back on an arm, staring up at the ceiling. "What about clothes? Or are we going to have to stay prisoners naked?"

"We still have our boots," River sassed, turning her head to look at him with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes.

"We're alive," he said slowly after a forever of silence. She nodded slowly for him to continue. _Yes, we've established this. Anything more to add on the subject?_"I don't know how to deal with this."

"We'll get through it, somehow," murmured River, reaching out to trace a pattern on Sam's cheek. "I'm sure that _Stockholm syndrome _will be a great contender in our stellar accomplishment at staying alive, but we'll get through it."

"Well, if I had to be stuck for an unknown allotment of time on an enemy baseship with anyone…" said Sam, trailing off with a suggestive smirk in River's direction. Her hand fell from his face and landed close to his.

"Sweetest thing I've ever heard."

Twenty levels above, a Three stood next to the Eight model who'd _introduced_them, arms crossed over her chest and a disgusted looked twisted on her face.

"This is nauseating."

"The mating rituals of humans," explained a One offhandedly in passing. "Don't try to even comprehend their behavior." The Eight snorted in agreement, but once the One was out of ear shot, shook her head.

"I don't know, maybe John's right," she began, speaking of the One faction who had passed. "Maybe we shouldn't have saved them. She's pregnant, and he knows of the old religion-"

"It doesn't matter, we saved them, there's nothing we can do about it now," interrupted the Three. "We'll be able to study her pregnancy and hopefully make progress with the hybridization program. As for the demon hunter…"

"I suppose the Ones will have to do what they wish with him," finished the Eight, glancing at her companion with slight warning in her eyes. "And if nothing else we can just interrogate them for information on the fleet."

"I'm sure everyone will be pleased about that," interrupted a Six from behind them, causing them to turn and look at her. The Six raised an eyebrow. "But I'm sure you heard the girl, like the rest of us did. She's been touched by God."

"It must be a sign," the Eight mused, turning away from the Six, a thoughtful look on her face. "We were meant to find them and they are meant to lead us."

The Three gave her a look and the Eight shrugged, her mouth twisting in amusement. "Well, as much as a human can lead a Cylon."

"What do we do with them for now?" asked the Six, turning into the Three's shoulder and lowering her voice. "We've healed their bodies, prevented her miscarriage, and reversed the damage done to his cornea when he made the mistake of opening them during our retrieval. What else is there to do?"

"River was right," said the Three, addressing the human girl by her name. "They'll trust us eventually, and they'll have a baby on board the ship. If we're lucky we'll be able to gather the supplies necessary to summon a demon, and be lead to Earth."

"It sounds like you're making this up as you go along," accused the Six under her breath, earning a sharp glare from the Three. They held gazes for a beat until the Six backed off, touching the Eight's arm to grab her attention. "Let's find them something to wear. Humans are always so conscious of their bareness around others."

And for the moment, everything was suspended in the air; waiting to press forward and continue. For a moment, River stared at Sam who tried not to project how completely okay he was with just being alive. For now, the Three was content to ignore the possibility that a demon would do nothing but bring disease and death and a fissure between her people; Simon let his eyes slip closed as he leaned against Dean, trying not to think of the other man as the only person he had left.

And for the moment everything seemed good.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's End Note: <strong>And that's the end. This was completed for the supernatural crossover big bang challenge on livejournal last year (I'm lazy about posting updates, sue me) and ever since it's completion I've been contemplating a sequal - it begs for one, doesn't it? Of course some basic knowledge of BSG is needed to understand the fic, it is a fusion after all, and the same would go for the sequal.

Thanks for reading, please take the time to review, favorite or even add to your alert so you don't loose the fic.

To find more of my Sam/River works to can search my stories or turn to my livejournal account of the same name.

Once more, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed my story.


End file.
